


The second law of thermodynamics

by noero



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Lance (Voltron), Canon Universe, Dissociation, Emotional Sex, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-14 23:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noero/pseuds/noero
Summary: Space is infinite, borderless, and free. But wherever he looks, Keith can only see four walls barring him in.[klance in three easy steps]





	The second law of thermodynamics

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before S3 dropped so canon inconsistencies abound and any existing spoilers are purely coincidental. I thought I'd add more to it, but eventually decided I liked it the way it is. 
> 
> I was listening to Amber Run's [I found](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbSZhGONRBg) a lot.

He existed in a swirl of chaos, any normalcy lost between foster homes, scattered nights sleeping on park benches, and a select few spent curled comfortably on a stack of blankets laid out over Shiro’s dorm room floor. He thought getting shoved into this makeshift family, living his whole life in a flying castle, and talking to the same six people every day would, at the very least, make his life consistent. Yet the smaller his world gets, contrary to what he thinks should be true, the more random all of this seems. 

The outlying variable, he concludes, is Lance. The push and pull of their orbits doesn't make any sense. On the one hand, he spins, and the violent motion keeps him rooted to the ground. They’d been spinning on earth too, but here they see sun and stars and planets drift by and Keith swears that he can feel it, the way the floor moves beneath his feet. He is the one stuck in one place.

After all, space is infinite, borderless, and free. But wherever he looks, Keith can only see four walls barring him in. 

Otherwise, he’d be floating. Floating, floating floating far beyond the stretches of where his awareness reaches. Which fate is worse, he doesn’t know.

“Hey,” Lance interrupts, voice cutting the heavy air. “Can I tell you something?” 

Keith looks up, hands still perched on the metal rimmed sink. He’d paused there, halfway to the showers, and now he can’t remember why. He sees Lance fidget with the fabric of his flight suit, teetering where he stands in the dimly lit bathroom, and Keith — by mistake — assumes the quiet is what gets to him. 

“It’s personal.”

“I can’t stop you,” Keith sighs, regarding Lance from the corners of his eyes. He stands no less than three steps away from Keith at any given time, but especially those moments when he doesn’t own the room and his aura shrivels down to something more direct and threatening, even in it's softness. That quiet, out-of-place energy, however, burrows more forcefully through Keith’s skin. Lance lingers, hovering, buzzing like a bee in Keith’s ear but not an inch closer. The space between them is electric, never closed and never filled, crackling with an energy Keith is terrified to touch. The energy does nothing to pull him in. Lance’s presence crowds him, pushing him against the edges of the room.

“Right. So.” Lance starts again, a long breath and heavy swallow. He hugs himself, body trembling just barely the way he does from time to time. He is fragile in those minutes. They’re hot from a fight and sweat has left delicate lines drawn down Lance’s dirt-stained face, threads of water like would-be tears. He remains dramatic and spoiled, but Lance doesn’t cry anymore. “Those shots were so close today. I mean, why aren’t we— I’m just. Man, I’m scared.”

And so Lance lets him float, tethered by a string; a red kite flying in a clear blue sky. 

Cruel, without meaning to be.

_Obviously_ , Keith thinks. What a stupid thing to say to Keith after all, like he doesn’t already know. Keith can’t do a damn thing about that, even if he'd like to. 

“Yeah,” Keith shrugs and turns away, not knowing how else to answer. He watches water drip from the faucet. More would-be tears that never fall.

“Aren’t _you_?”

Keith pauses and Lance’s gaze traces the scar that rips across his bare shoulder. Fingers twitch at Lance’s side and Keith looks down at his own hands. He thinks about the cold, distant calling of loneliness and imagines the hypothetical warmth of those fingers still fidgeting at Lance’s side. 

Terrified, he thinks.

 

* * *

The space between them begins to close. 

The motion is nothing more than a quiet murmur, the ticking of a clock, so soft Keith never sees it coming until he’s already knee-deep in disarray. Lance’s presence is a hand on his back, just a ghost of pressure so serve as a guiding force through this thick fog. They go back and forth and Keith begins to see Lance mirror him. Keith can see the cracks in him but instead of filling them, he pulls them wide open. 

“I’m heading to the training deck,” Keith offers. “Wanna run a few drills together?”

Lance scoffs, "And risk being seen hanging out with you? People might think we're friends outside of work or something."

“Well I don’t know, Lance.” Keith shrugs. “Being seen with me might actually improve your status around here. Sure couldn’t hurt.”

Lance steps forward, two steps between them, and places a hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith goes rigid beneath the touch. “My man,” Lance meets his eyes with a sly smile. “No one with a mullet is going to ever score cool points over me.”

Keith grabs hold of Lance’s bony wrist, thumb sliding from pulse point to palm before shoving his hand away. He tries not to think about how warm it was against his own and how it shakes between his fingers. He glares at Lance. 

They never say what they’re thinking. The distance between what they say and do blows wide open, even while they physically drift together.

But no one ever touches Keith anymore.

 

* * *

Perhaps shared vulnerability wins out in the end. Lance approaches Keith after liberating a small planet in a desolate quadrant, a heavy fight with very few alliances won. That’s not the point, Keith knows, as Lance walks to him with only the ghost of a smile at his lips, tired and worn. In that moment Keith realizes for the first time how much he's changed. 

Lance hugs his helmet against his chest then lays it aside to stand just before Keith, fingers wringing together between nervous hands.

Wordless, Lance leans forward -- slow, one step away -- and the kiss doesn’t feel as out of place as it should. Lance’s mouth is a firm press against his, but there is a distinct shyness beneath his touch that feels so out of place it sends a shiver down Keith’s spine. This is a side of Lance that Keith remains unfamiliar with, one where he is slow, soft, tentative, and steady as he breathes in the tiny exhale Keith lets out in surprise. This is not an accident, joke, or miscalculation. Lance kisses Keith because he wants to and that realization settles hard in the pit of his stomach.

There is a strange crackle to Lance’s touch, the familiarity of the Red Lion’s energy clinging to his skin and Keith's heart stammers. The room is closing in, the walls bearing down, but somehow Keith only feels the gentle tug of that thread come loose as he’s let out further into the sky. He lunges forward, barely registering the sound of his own helmet clattering to the ground. He chases Lance’s lips, seeking that warmth to envelop him once again. He hates this, hates it so much. 

Lance's hands find way to his shoulders and fingers dig into the fabric of his flight suit. Lance is too much tongue and his mouth is just a little too wide. No wonder he can never stop talking, Keith thinks. They part again and Keith tightens his jaw, locking it shut.

“So,” Lance murmurs, voice odd in the way it shakes. “My place or yours?”

Keith backs up. “It was only a kiss, Lance.” 

Easy, quiet, and with no smile. 

 

* * *

Desperation is a unforgiving illusion, or the illusion was that Keith convinced himself this never existed. The thought swims through Keith’s head as he allows Lance to pin him against the bathroom wall, cool fingertips digging into the seams of his flight suit and not one step between them. They always end here, a flurry of steam beneath the cool lights. Keith thinks of Lance being scared, frightened, and vulnerable here only a month before. Their lives are patterns, repeated forever.

The planet they came from had been so cold and Lance’s hands are so, so warm.

And they are all over Keith, moving across his chest and around to his back, and slipping over and around his hip bones. Keith wants to be nailed to the floor.

"I like the kissing," Lance murmurs against him, tongue sinking past Keith's lips before pulling away. "Didn’t think I would."

"You're bad at it." 

“You’re a bad liar,” Lance laughs into the next one.

A smirk tugs at Keith's mouth. Uninvited. 

He’d felt sorry for Lance but maybe he’d felt a little sorry for himself too, pitiful things that they were. Keith still tells himself he doesn’t want Lance as his palm slides down his abdomen to cup the growing bulge in his pants. Keith tells himself he doesn’t want Lance as his head falls back against the wall, throat exposed and adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. But still Lance is warm when Keith’s hands are cold.

Easy. Lance is easy.

“Closer.” Keith tugs Lance’s hips another step forward, the rise of their chests falling in sync.

“Like that?” Lance asks, voice wavering around the words.

Keith nods, “Closer.”

Nimble fingers pry open the seam that runs down the spine of Keith’s flightsuit and Lance’s hands drift further down until fingertips ghost over his backside. Their movements are careful despite how sudden all of this is and Keith is malleable beneath Lance’s touch, molded into any shape Lance chooses. 

They undress without words, water running behind them, ready to wash away the vestiges of their last fight. Lance cups the back of Keith’s head and he leans into the touch before they are taking quiet steps toward the shower stall, bare feet silent on the floor.

“You did really well today,” Keith murmurs against him as warm water cascades over his head, sliding down his hair and over his shoulders, following where Lance touches him.

“I know,” Lance answers with ease. He kisses the soft space below Keith’s ear. “I’m about to do even better.”

Keith’s head hits the wall as Lance trails his mouth down Keith’s neck and over his shoulder, a flutter across his scar. Keith laughs lightly, eyes fluttering shut. “You think? Awful confident for someone who’s never had any action.”

“Aw. You really think you’re my first,” Lance mouths against his arm. “That’s sweet.”

Keith shakes his head, letting the lie slide, and rakes both hands through Lance’s wet hair. Drops of water stick to his eyelashes and Keith catches them as they drip down Lance’s cheeks. They kiss again, a thumb across a bottom lip, and teeth prodding against tender flesh. Keith laughs a little at the absurdity of all.

Then his fingers are traveling down Lance’s spine, counting the bones and dip of each muscle, until he’s grasping at the soft skin of his ass. He teases and skims, sliding just close enough that it doesn’t seem to intentional. But Lance parts his thighs just enough for Keith to know what he wants. He still tenses at the initial press of Keith’s finger before exhaling and pushing back against the touch. 

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?” 

“N-No. Kinda weird,” Lance swallows. “Keep it up.”

Keith exhales to calm himself, the heat making his mind clouded. “You like it though?”

“Keith. _Yes_ ,” Lance sighs against him and Keith grins. 

He eases his finger deeper inside and hopes Lance can’t feel him trembling. Keith watches with rapt focus as Lance’s face contorts into pleasure, giving in. He tangles a free hand in Lance’s wet hair and pulls Lance’s face tight against the juncture of his shoulder and neck. He massages tight circles against the nape of his neck and focuses on the sounds, those tiny moans the sound of falling water threatens to wash away. 

“More?” Lance asks, almost shy, the sound vibrating through Keith’s neck. His fingers dance along Keith’s hips, chasing rivers of water as they drift down the lines of his bones.

So Keith adds a second finger, humming in question and Lance answers with a shaky moan. He drags his fingers in and out, sucking in a breath at every shudder Lance makes. When Lance begins to jerk his hips back and forth against Keith’s ministrations, they’re both hard and rutting against each other. The water keeps their bodies slick, sliding easily against one another. 

Keith wants to ask how they got here. Lance was never the one he wanted. He wants to ask why this feels so natural when it’s the last thing he’d ever expected. 

Blocking out his doubts, Keith flips Lance around before he can change his mind and pushes him against hard the wall. Replacing shy fingertips with bold lips, Keith kisses along Lance’s spine where he’d touched before. Running his tongue down the base of his back, Keith works two fingers back inside, pushing harder and twisting until Lance’s breath catches. 

He dips lower, kissing the tender skin on Lance's inner thighs and below his balls. Feeling the push of adrenaline, he slides his tongue against the opening of Lance's hole. Keith holds his hips steady when he flinches from the touch, rubbing firm circles so Lance knows it's okay. Keith wants to explore every inch of him.

Lance is babbling again when Keith stands, legs wobbling only a bit, holding his body slick against Lance in the dizzying mist. He fumbles with Lance’s assistance, guiding his length inside, and they both let loose fragmented curses as pushes in that first inch. 

“Closer,” Keith repeats and Lance nods, face buried now in the crook of his elbow where it balances against the wall. 

Keith pushes in the rest of the way and Lance shudders, clawing at the glass-smooth walls and exhaling with a muted groan. 

Keith nuzzles his jaw in the crook of his neck so their cheeks are pressed together, breathing ragged and vision blurring, as he rocks his hips in small, tight movements. The stall is too hot suddenly, boiling, and for a moment he forgets where they are. They’re not stuck on an alien castle and the walls are not closing in. This is all new territory and Keith is both free and grounded.

He noses Lance’s ear, “Yes?”

The answer comes in a strangled moan, Lance’s hips bucking up against Keith. “That’s-- I’m. _Oh._ ”

No restraint. Keith no longer feels the thread, only Lance shaking against him. His hands grasp at Lance’s hips, finding purchase anywhere he can. He’s fed tiny words of encouragement in between soft sighs and harsh grunts.

He snakes a hand between Lance’s legs and wraps his fingers around his length. Lance keens into the touch, “There we go. _That’s_ what I’m talkin’ about.”

“ _Stop_ talking,” Keith reprimands, the hardness of his words lost between pleasure-laden gasps. 

Still, Lance stops and bites his bottom lip, rolling his hips back in desperation -- anything to keep Keith going. His body trembles with adrenaline, abdominal muscles twitching, and their movements become bolder. Keith nips at his neck, tasting the metallic edge of their water mingled with the salty slick skin. He pulls out half way and thrusts back in, relishing in how Lance squirms beneath him. His thumb runs over Lance’s cockhead, the movement increasingly frantic to match the rhythm of his hips.

Lance gasps and grabs hold of Keith’s forearm, digging nails into his skin. Keith lays kisses along his jaw, the line of his neck arching beautifully just before his back does the same. They unravel together, Lance stringing together words that have no meaning, and Keith swallowed by the tight sensation of Lance’s back firm against his chest. 

The stupid words are falling from Keith’s mouth before he can stop them, “L-Lance… I don’t want to be alone, please don’t leave me.”

Lance says nothing but grabs his hand, interlacing their fingers and holding tight. He holds Keith steady so he won’t float away.

The questions of how they got here die on Keith’s tongue. 

 

* * *

They stand three steps apart on the bridge as Keith reiterates his plan of attack for their next mission. There are no guarantees in life and death. Keith knows Lance is scared and he knows he can do no more about that gaping fear than Lance can do for him. 

But Lance glances at him, face serious and eyes unsure. The room spins and Keith floats until the space closes again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


End file.
